FrUKing Oneshots
by annablink
Summary: Just some short little FrUK oneshots I make when I have writer's block. AU! mostly. Also, some Chibi! FrUK.
1. Neighbors

**Okay, so I just spent all this time writing a really, REALLY long-ass intro, and then my MOTHER FUCKING COMPUTER DECIDED TO FUCKING DELETE ALL OF IT, JUST… ILKSGHLJKFAHDSN S;DKJ.**

**So anyway, I don't feel like writing the entire thing over again, but here's what you mainly need to know.**

**I know you want me to finish my other stories, but I am stuck on TWOR because of writer's block, among other things, and the chances of me actually finishing any of my South Park fics at this point are very, VERY low.**

**I have decided to give y'all SOMETHING, so here's this.**

**Voila, my FrUK oneshots!**

**I own nothing, as per "youj"**

**Enjoy!**

New Neighbor

"Arthur, come on and finish your stew if you want scones!"

The five-year-old whined obnoxiously at his mother, but complied begrudgingly. He certainly didn't want to miss out on some scones. Hurriedly, he scooped the slimy chunks of something-or-other into his tiny mouth, some of it stubbornly falling back into the bowl due to the overcrowded contents. The scruffy little boy forced the food down his throat, finally finishing with a triumphant "hmph!" His mother shook her head at her son, handing him a plate with three of his favorite blueberry scones piled onto it. Just as he greedily grabbed one, a knock came at the door. Arthur's mother sighed tiredly.

"Oh, what now?"

She strode over to the door, brushing the hair out of her face as she did so. When she opened the door, outside stood a small, slightly feminine looking boy with long flowing blonde locks of hair and big blue eyes that stared confidently upwards. When he spoke, his voice held a heavy French accent. "Bonjour, Madame. I am your new next door neighbor. My name is Francis Bonnefoy and I am 8 years old. How do you do?" For good measure, he grabbed Mrs. Kirkland's hand and brushed his lips against the back of it. She blushed her family's signature red and chuckled, pulling away her hand nervously. Francis then turned his attention to the little five year old hiding behind her leg and glaring at him viciously. He smirked at him. "Bonjour, mon cheri. What might your name be?" At this, the toddler's green eyes widened and he ducked behind his mother's skirt. She chuckled.

"That would be Arthur. He's shy. Would you like to come in, Francis?" The boy nodded enthusiastically. His mother stepped out of the doorway to allow him to pass through. Immediately, Arthur scurried away into the living room to guard his toys from the stranger. Francis giggled and followed close behind.

"What is _this_?" inquired the French boy, holding up a stuffed green creature.

"Mine." Replied Arthur simply, snatching it from his neighbor. Then, he sighed. "His name is Flying Mint Bunny." To his shock, he heard the other boy begin to laugh. Only, it was strange and nasally, and very French. "Why are you laughing?" He demanded angrily.

"I thought it was a frog!" exclaimed Francis, still laughing. Arthur turned red once more.

"_You're_ the frog!"

Suddenly, the French boy's laughter ceased. "Ton cheveaux est tres moche!" He retaliated.

"What the heck does that even mean? You… WANKER!"

"I'm so sorry for Arthur's… behavior. I'm sure Francis was only trying to be friendly…" Apologized a flustered Mrs. Kirkland as she applied a Band-Aid to Francis' scraped knee while his mother dabbed at his black eye and he bawled because the color of his bruises "clashed with his beauty." Mrs. Bonnefoy nodded understandingly while she shushed her son with encouraging whispers of things like "It'll make you look rugged," and "These scars will only make you look tougher, mon cheri…" Meanwhile, Arthur was still in his "time out" in the corner. He hadn't gotten too damaged, aside from a bloody nose and some torn out hair, but his mother had taken away what was left of his scones, and this made him very bitter towards what was left of Francis. Still, he smirked at the reminder that he had done most of the physical damage. He vowed never to allow himself to befriend the frog.

…Who needs friends anyway, right?

**Okay, so it's not exactly very lovey-dovey. But c'mon, it's chibi Britain and France. What else did you expect? I might actually do a series of oneshots focusing on the two of them growing up together. Hm. Anyway, bonne nuit, tout le monde!**


	2. Rebound

He hated this.

Not the fact that Arthur was now feeling pain. Heavens, no.

He hated having to _listen _to it.

The eighteen-year-old had been going on for what seemed like days over his recent heartbreak with his kinda-sorta-not-really boyfriend, Alfred Jones. The only reason Francis stayed is because he owed his neighbor this, seeing as he made him sit through his own whining about his first heartbreak with a girl, when he was about thirteen. Still, Francis didn't think that even he was this dramatic and angry. Scattered around the room were tissues and empty bottles of various liquors. Splayed out on the couch was a half sobbing, half drunkedly-cursing Arthur.

"H-he didn't have to be so fucking….ungrateful to me, y'know?" He announced to no one in particular, taking another swig of the bottle he held clutched in his left hand. "I fucking r-raised the wanker, and how does he repay me? He…leaves me…"

He began to cry again, accepting the tissue being handed to him by the bored Frenchman sitting opposite. The latter let out a dramatic sigh, collapsing deeper into the couch cushions and staring at the ceiling. Suddenly, he felt someone sit beside him. Craning his neck, he turned his attention to a very drunk Arthur, who was staring at him intently. Francis opened his mouth to speak, but the Englishman swiftly cut him off.

"You don't think I'm unappealing, do you frog?" asked the younger boy in a voice that was half accusing and half pleading.

Francis had definitely not been expecting this. He blinked at the odd question. This earned an eye roll from the other boy. "Answer me!"

As a matter of fact, he thought Arthur was rather adorable when his nose got all red and his eyes were puffy. Not to mention, of course, that he was sitting in a cross-legged position that made him look like he was five again. Francis smiled fondly. "Ah, _mon petit chou, _I find you to be _tres mingon._"

However, the smaller boy simply narrowed his large emerald green eyes. "I don't know what you just called me, but if I find out it was offensive in any way, I will…" His voice trailed off and he looked like he had just seen a rainbow for the first time. Before Francis had time to think, he was grabbed rather harshly by the collar of his shirt and yanked into a chaste kiss initiated by the Brit. He had only just gotten over the shock when the other boy pulled away, leaving him disappointed and whimpering.

Turning away from the Frenchman abruptly, Arthur stumbled off the couch and into the kitchen, mumbling something about Alfred.

_So we're back on that, then._ Thought Francis resentfully. _How do I always end up as his rebound?_

He knew how in love he was with his British neighbor.

He knew that said neighbor loved someone else.

_Sigh._

God, how he hated this.


End file.
